


the grey warden dies here!

by annadavidson



Series: that which shaped the century (a dragon age dual au) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dragon Age AU, Dragon Age Dual AU, Dual AU, M/M, Zevwarden Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annadavidson/pseuds/annadavidson
Summary: Despite knowing that there’s a price on his head, Piras never actually expected Loghain to send assassins after them, so he’s caught off guard in the beginning.Prompt: Zevran certainly does make a… unique first impression. What were your Warden’s thoughts towards him, at first? Did they actually trust him, or was recruiting him a purely pragmatic decision? What were those first weeks like?





	

Despite knowing that there’s a price on his head, Piras never actually expected Loghain to send assassins after them, so he’s caught off guard in the beginning. There’s something different about this group, he notices as he takes his staff off his back, twirling it in his hand out of habit more than added flare. There’s something more... _experienced_  about this group and their leader. Just as that thought strikes him, he realizes he took his eyes off the one who seems to be in charge. The handsome elf who declared he would die - It doesn’t help him to think the enemy is handsome, but Piras likes to think he’s allowed to admire someone as he kills them.

Or, as it happens, as he gets knocked out by them.

The elf is fast which would have made Piras guess he was a rogue if his dual weapons hadn’t already given that away. The young Grey Warden reacts, bringing his staff, Wintersbreath, up to block the blade of a sword. The ice coating Wintersbreath helps keep the sword from damaging the wooden staff a little bit. Snowflakes drip off the staff, his grip starting to hurt. He’s a mage; he isn’t built for combat this close. He doesn’t have a shield like some of his friends or even a sword. They don’t teach you how to keep a sword from decapitating you in the Circle.

Wait... Didn’t this elf have _two_  weapons?

The blunt end of a dagger’s hilt came up between him and Wintersbreath, knocking up into his jaw and causing him to stagger back, one hand slipping off Wintersbreath.

 _Fuck,_  he mentally curses. Darkspawn don’t fight like that. He barely manages to stumble to the side, narrowly missing a dagger. The blade sings past him, scraping his cheek and tearing a small part of the fabric of his hood. He needs to get away from this elf. He needs to call for Alistair or Namera, someone with an actual shield who can fucking defend themselves - He has a habit of getting irritable and short tempered whenever he gets his ass kicked.

“Namer- _AH!”_  shouting for his comrade is cut off as an arrow lodges itself into the back of his right shoulder, and all he can think is _Maker_  that hurts and why the fuck isn’t the Grey Warden mage outfit more armored. He isn’t sure what hits him next - perhaps the hilt of a sword or dagger again or maybe even a fist. The next thing he knows, he’s sprawled on the ground, Wintersbreath just an arms reach from him. He tries to reach for the staff but the arrow in his shoulder hurts with every move of his arm. His eyes feel heavy, his head throbbing.

Through half-closed eyes, he can see the elf standing over him, weapons in hand. He’s glad that the last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is Namera ramming into that elf with her shield. At least he isn’t the only one getting knocked out.

When he wakes up, happily to the relieved face of Wynne, traces of her healing magic between them, he’s glad to see the elf is the one tied up and not him. The first thing he does is grab Wintersbreath, using the staff to help pull himself to his feet. He smirks at the tied up elf, still unconscious, which he remembers is Namera’s doing.

The first thing he thinks is that he’s glad to be alive. The second thing, as he looks at the unconscious elf who he can’t deny is handsome, is something he prefers to keep to himself. He doesn’t want to drive Alistair back to the Chantry with such talk. But alas, handsome men, especially handsome _elven_  men, are one of his weaknesses.

When they wake him up and interrogate him, Piras tries to look tough, intimidating. He doesn’t want to look curious or sympathetic. He certainly doesn’t want to give away that he’s looked the elf up and down more times than he cares to mention. He folds his arms, keeping a one-handed grip on Wintersbreath as if to say _make one wrong move, and I’ll strike you_ ,totally ignoring how fast he had been taken out of the battle earlier.

He can see it in his eyes, though. The _truth._  This elf, _Zevran,_  doesn’t want to die. He knows that look. He’s seen it in the Circle before. He’s seen it from the moment the Battle of Ostagar began. He’s seen this specific look in Jowan’s eyes. The look of someone whose life is in his hands. He adverts his eyes. He’d failed to help Jowan, to keep him safe. Perhaps... Perhaps he might not fail this time.

“Alright, we could use your _skills,_  Zevran,” he says out of the blue, not even pausing to wonder if that would be alright with his comrades. However he can’t stop himself from putting on his best seductive smirk as he says  _“skills.”_

The first few weeks are different than Piras expected. Zevran has his trust from the start, at least when it comes to battles and trusting Zevran not to kill him in the middle of the night at camp. Zevran owes him and Namera after all. They kept him alive. They’re keeping him safe from the Crows. Piras has faith that Zevran won’t betray them and murder them. As far as personal information goes, he trusts Zevran with that only when Zevran trusts him with something personal. He gives as much as Zevran gives to him.

Aside from flirting, that is. Zevran has grown closer to Namera in these first few weeks than he has to Piras, it’s obvious to the elven mage. Piras is fairly certain that Namera accidentally flirted with Zevran a few times, knowing that Namera is already head over heels for Alistair who is head over heels for her.

There’s no way that Zevran isn’t fully aware of Piras’ flirting. He’s flirted back, and Piras even once joked about ravishing Zevran in celebration after the Blight. But it’s obvious Zevran’s attention is divided between him and Namera. Perhaps the Antivan isn’t sure which Grey Warden is more interested in him.

Embers flicker and fly from the fire, dancing in the darkness of the forest they’re camped out in. Everyone is around the fire, eating and complaining about the food Alistair cooked up. Piras looks up from his plate to see Zevran wipe some food off of Namera’s cheek. Namera looks like she isn’t sure how to turn him down without hurting his feelings. Alistair looks jealous, definitely an odd look on the usually cheerful warrior. Jealousy isn’t new to Piras, though, and neither is having a short temper.

Tossing his plate to the ground, hearing it clatter with the silverware, he gets up, ignoring the fact that _everyone’s_  eyes are now on him. He maneuvers around the fire to stand in front of Zevran. Bending down, he grabs the Antivan, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. The kiss is meant to be short and quick, but the next thing he knows, he’s sitting in Zevran’s lap, their lips never parting and no longer being the only factors in the kiss. His long brown hair is pulled out of its messy ponytail by one of Zevran’s hands, the other hand pressing against the small of Piras’ back. What is meant as a quick act of jealousy easily turns into the two of them making out in front of the whole camp for practically half an hour.

**Author's Note:**

> Like/reblog on Tumblr [here](http://magicrobins.tumblr.com/post/148305837990/zevwarden-week-1-most-under-the-cut-monday).


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